Chapter 879: Advance or Retreat

With Mbappé scoring, the score had become 0:2.

Due to completely opposing loyalties, the French fans’ celebrations sounded harsh to the Chinese fans’ ears.

“Mbappé’s goal… damn, it really was flawless.”

“Yeah, Mbappé’s header wasn’t that great—I think this goal mainly came down to Dembélé; that header was just perfect.”

“Dembélé’s performance in this match has been a bit excessive…”

Regardless of who played a bigger role in the second goal, France had clearly extended their lead.

“Whoa!”

Mbappé crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tucked just below his armpits—his favorite celebration gesture.

“Slide! Slide!”

The French fans in the stands shouted at Mbappé, hoping their idol would perform the three-stripe slide to crush the Chinese team’s morale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Mbappé spread his hands toward the stands, shaking his head to decline the suggestion, then turned and embraced Konaté as he ran up.

“…“

The match resumed; it was the 40th minute of the first half. Escrivá clenched his teeth, veins bulging on his face.

Although Ferran always seemed flustered, today’s Chinese team head coach clearly had a different mindset.

Was he running out of ideas?

But there was nothing to be done—based on the field situation, China had been under constant pressure. If you’re being pinned down, then the opponent’s frequent shots are inevitable.

“China really needs to come up with a solution now…”

“Yeah, our team is currently trailing by two goals. So in the second half, China’s tactics shouldn’t focus on defense—no, we must actively change, seek offensive opportunities. That’s what the players need to do right now.”

“…“

“Beep! Beep-beep—!!”

“That’s the end of the first half—the score is temporarily 0:2, with France leading by two goals!”

The halftime whistle blew, and the big screen now showed Tang Ye’s face—China’s captain, his eyebrows knotted, expression filled with an indescribable sense of grievance.

Two paths lay before China: the first was to fight France to the end, even if success had less than a 10% chance.

The second was more conservative: strategically abandon this match and redirect energy toward the upcoming third-place playoff.

Here, CCTV relayed a piece of information to the fans: the knockout stage schedule was tightly packed; if China lost in the semifinal, they would face the third-place match just four days later, meaning the players could never reach their peak form in that game.

Even the upper half was like this—how much worse was the lower half?

In the lower half, whether Argentina or Portugal lost, they would have only three days’ rest before their third-place match.

Hmm…

From this perspective, if China conserved energy in today’s match, they might gain a huge advantage in the third-place playoff?

Whether facing Portugal or Argentina, they’d have superior physical and mental stamina!

So, advance or retreat—this became the question China’s team had to discuss during halftime.

“Everyone, sit down quickly—yes, as fast as you can, save time.”

“In the second half, my plan is to make minimal substitutions.”

As soon as Escrivá finished speaking, every player’s gaze snapped toward him.

Minimal substitutions…

Didn’t that mean giving up the chance to win? It was just that the match was still ongoing, so some things couldn’t be said outright.

“We’re only down by two.”

Tang Ye spoke up.

“…“

Escrivá shook his head slightly—he understood Tang Ye’s meaning: “But you’ve seen it—we’re not just down by two goals.”

“Dembélé and Mbappé split wide; we simply can’t handle both at once.”

“And I said, Dembélé and Mbappé might not even be the key—the real problem is Koundé and Theo (Hernández); those two fullbacks are what’s crushing us. As long as they’re on the pitch, we can’t do anything.”

Tang Ye clenched his teeth.

He wanted to say more, but reason told him he was wrong, so he turned his head away, refusing to argue further.

“I just… I think we still have a chance. We’ve won before. This match is just harder.”

“It’s not just a little harder, Tom.”

“…“

Seeing Tang Ye silent, Escrivá stepped forward: “I know what you mean. I know what the rest of you are thinking—you want to win. Yes, I want to win too!”

“But we need to be rational. That’s what a top-level team must do.”

“I want to reach the final, but since the chance is slim, we must find ways to increase our odds of securing third place. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Escrivá’s words were easy to grasp—but accepting them was not easy at all.

“So we’re just giving up, then?”

Zhang Yuning stared at Escrivá.

“No, of course not. In the second half, we’ll make adjustments, try to equalize—because this is the World Cup.”

“But I won’t ask you to fight to the death.”

“…“

After he finished, the locker room fell silent. All Chinese players turned their eyes toward Tang Ye, who had been quiet for a long time.

Escrivá was also looking in Tang Ye’s direction.

“…“

“Huh…”

“Alright, then.”

There was a hint of compromise, but in truth, Tang Ye still held to his own view: “It may look like a big gap, but I said it—we’re only down by two goals. I’ll find a way to try.”

Escrivá nodded: “Yeah, of course—I’ll try too.”

Escrivá walked over; Tang Ye raised his hand and bumped fists with the coach.

…

“We’re only down by two, so tell me—are we really only down by two?”

On the way to the player tunnel, Tang Ye explained his thinking to his teammates.

“I know, you’re right, Tang Ye. But he (Escrivá) is right too.”

“If we lose this match by fighting to the death, we’ll lose the third-place game too.”

“What if we win?”

Tang Ye looked Wu Lei in the eye, leaving the latter speechless.

“This…”

“You need to know which probability is higher. Forget it, never mind—I just say, give it your all. Don’t carry too much pressure.”

Wu Lei shook his body, took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, mentally preparing for the second half.

The players waited to enter the field; only Escrivá and Ma Di remained in the locker room.

“You could say nothing and just delay substitutions.”

“If I did that, they wouldn’t accept the outcome.”

Escrivá glared fiercely at Ma Di: “I have no choice!”

“This had to happen—so it might as well happen now.”

“…“